


Ferris Wheel

by RainOfFire



Category: Breaking Bad
Genre: Angst, Jesse POV, Kinda depressing, Post-Episode: s05e16 Felina, sort of (depending how you read it) implied reference to drug use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-28
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-06-05 00:13:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6681709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainOfFire/pseuds/RainOfFire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-Felina. </p><p>Years later Jesse is still struggling to move on with his life. He clings on to memories of the past to feel any sort of happiness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ferris Wheel

For some people the past is exactly what it says on the tin – it’s in the past. These people live and these people forget. They don’t stop in their forward journeys to mull over what has been. Because that just gets in the way of their end in sight. These people are called ‘Forward People’. Hopeless romantics, uptight pencil-pushers, Wall Street workaholics, charitable do-gooders – you get the drift. These people do the whole work and grind thing to reach their goal, to strive for a better standard than in the present. And if they fail in their little missions, or whatever you wanna call it, they don’t sit and bitch about it for a long ass time. Nah, these Forwarders just get back on their feet, tighten their shoelaces, dust themselves off and contemplate a different path to reach their finish line. Lame and annoying as fuck.  
I want to be a Forward Person. But I’m not.

I’m what you would call a ‘Past Pisshead’. Not much of a catchy name right? Actually, it’s pretty shit. Doesn’t exactly showcase my creative flair but hey, that kind of makes it perfect for me. I’m a fuck-up. Always have been and always will be. I guess it’s like built into my DNA codes or wired into one of my brain parts or something. But being a fuck up is fine by me. Lived long enough to be okay with it, and _accept_ it and shit. But what I’m not okay with is me being a pussy and not being able to think like these Forward People. I’m the opposite. I don’t look into the future and think hey, I’m going to become _this_ and in order to get there I will do _this_ and _this_. That’s not me. The only times I am forced into thinking about the future I cease up with dread. It’s actually pretty paralysing. It’s not because I’m like ‘oh god I don’t want _this_ to happen because I did _this_.’ I dread it because I don’t see one; I don’t see a future. It’s empty, like a blank gun. I blink, close my eyes and I squeeze out like 15 brain cells for a picture of something to pop up so I can be like ‘yeah that’s my future – looks bleak as hell but whatever’. I don’t even get that. I get nothing. Blank.

On the other hand, though, I do get a whole lot of the past busting through my head. It’s like a never-ending Ferris Wheel but on crack. Or meth. It can be memories of the good ol’ days spinning round and round until I feel my eyes rolling into the back of my head. I pay for my ticket, jump into passenger car, sit back and enjoy the ride.

The ride itself is euphoric – I reach the top and there’s that little pause where everything stops. I see utopia – one that was real and was actually lived by me. It’s amazing. Friends smile and wave up at me and I wave back. I see my family laugh - they’re happy and they look at me with big grins on their faces. I’m happy too. I see other loved ones and they blow kisses at me. I’m on top of the world. I feel like I’m on the highest of the highs. I live through each memory – moment by moment. I indulge each recall through every one of my senses. The touch of their skin, the smell of their hair, the sound of their laugh. I inhale every moment until I’m out of breath.

Then there’s a jolt, and my cart is moving again. My heart picks up the beating. We’re going down. I don’t want to move – I’m so unbelievably happy up here. But the wheel doesn’t stop for me because it never does. I try take in as much of the view as possible. I reach out and try grasp at my loved ones but they don’t reach back. The melody of their voices and laughter becomes softer. Their faces become blurrier and I’m not sure who’s who any more, I just see figures in the distance until they disappear. And then there’s no music and no bumbling of voices – it’s just noiseless. Everyone is gone.

And when I get out of the cart I rush to the ticket booth and throw them everything in my pockets, every last change that’s on me and jump back in. And the loop repeats. Over and over again.

Sometimes they’re not great spins. I get some real scary as shit ones and they’re the worst. Because you’re stuck up there with nowhere to escape to and you’re literally facing your demons. Faces and places you want to forget and I’m paralysed again. It feels like I’m drowning in my own senses and I can’t breathe because my whole being is being flooded by these demons of my past.  
And then it’s time to wake from nostalgia and live the real nightmare.

I’m sitting on the bathroom floor in some shitty motel room. It’s one of those motels only serial killers, hookers, their clients, and people on the run would visit The tiles on the floor are a gross mix of brown and green but I’m sure they used to be white. The remains of the wallpaper that haven’t been torn off are the colour of vomit. The whole place is a shithole but I’ve been to worse. I lift my head and grab the side of the toilet to get myself up on my feet.

 The red dusty sunrise creates a glow in the unlit sandy desert. It’s peaceful. One of the most peaceful places I’ve been these past years. There’s no screeching of birds or yelling of little kids or bustling of vehicles. It’s all quiet bar the calming rattle of insects crawling the dirt. The comforting heat from the morning sun warms my body and I don’t move a muscle. I take it all in. It doesn’t hurt as much as I thought it would. I’m at ease here, and my head feels clearer.  
I take the pack of smokes from my pockets and light one. The breath of the cool morning air whistles up my arm just like I remember and I feel goosebumps. The air even smells familiar.

But it’s not home. It can never be home for me because I don’t belong anywhere. A misfit of everything.

I look around at the picture in front of me. And for the first time in eight years I crack a smile - an honest heart-felt smile – and I’m not even on the Ferris Wheel. My feet are flat on this dusty gritty ground, and I’m looking into the wide open landscape before me. It’s beautiful in an ugly sort of way. Looks like the sorta place a giant UFO would land. I look forward at the orange sun that’s peeking out from behind the boulders of rock in the distance and it’s almost as if I can see little glimmerings of hope blink through the edges.

I take one last drag of my cigarette and drop it to the ground, crush it with the heel of my foot and return inside. I’m being lame as hell. I’m not some arty singer of a crappy garage band that sings about falling in love a woman from the bus stop. Mr. White would even think I’m being lame and he’s the nerdiest guy I know.

I can even hear his voice, “ _Really Jesse? You think because you’re up before midday this one time you’re suddenly a normal functioning member of society?_ ” I laugh and I sit on the gross bathroom tiles again. He’s right. His dork ass is right. I feel about my pockets.

I’m walking to the booth. I’m reaching out my hand from my pocket. I’m extending my arm and offering my transaction. I’m getting on the passenger car. I’m getting to the top and-

His voice calls out and I turn to look at him. He’s looking at me with a small smile playing on his lips. I’m not sure what he just said. The powerful smell of chemicals overwhelm me. I look down at his hand and he’s holding out a gas mask. I take it out his hand and walk to the door and lock the RV shut. I put on my mask and we both nod.

I’m home.

**Author's Note:**

> The rant at the beginning is basically me, I just thought would Jesse probably be thinking the same even though it would be nice to think he's living a great wee life in Alaska or somewhere!  
> Sometimes it's just too difficult to think forward when your brain is so adamant of remaining in the past - simpler times. Exactly why I've rewatched Breaking Bad for like 5th time! Watching it back, and seeing their goofy (but still dark lol) antics in the early seasons makes the finale ever sadder! Anyway hope you liked :)


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